In the context of "About the Author," Body displays attributes and experiences shared by a majority of writers and artists. He is familiar enough to stand in for just about (any) Body. In a wider context, I've used George Body more specifically as an alter ego in my writing for the past forty years. For readers who have not heard or read the story elsewhere, I'll repeat its origin: When I was editing Asylum Magazine during the late 1980s and early 1990s, I once received a submission of several particularly bad poems, accompanied by a cover letter that began "Dear George Body." The sheer absurdity of someone not caring enough to verify the name of the editor to whom he'd submitted his work so delighted me that I borrowed the mistake and in a sense have answered to the name ever since. Through my acceptance of the name, I embraced the life of folly that seemed certain either way. "Better to laugh than cry."
Anyone of us who has pursued a life of writing poetry can relate. When I decided years ago to focus on learning the skill of writing a poem, I quit playing the guitar fearing my grades would suffer. Little did I know the workshop at San Francisco State would fall short of what I had hoped for or at least meet the criteria I experienced earlier in southern California; but by then I no longer needed the workshop.
I look back with astonishment that I managed somehow to write a book of poems that was worth reading. Poet William Stafford once wrote in a letter, "I know there are rewards to writing whether it signals so to others or not." Poet Ben Saltman wrote a poem titled "Contributor's Note," dedicated to me. It was loosely about me. I asked him about that and he said "It's about me as much as about you." I didn't appreciate mention of "the girl who was to be my wife," whomever that may have been. All of the women I knew, generally speaking, thought writing poetry was alright, as long as I understood it was a hobby and not a serious vocation.
Ben Saltman, when writing his poem, included a sentence that he lifted from a letter that I wrote when he was teaching in London as a visiting poet. I was amused he forgot about it. I said, "You shouldn't be uncomfortable about having used a sentence from my letter; I used a sentence from a letter you wrote to me." He wanted to know what sentence? I said, "I'm not telling you. You should know your own handiwork."
I had complained about editors returning nearly everything I submitted. I forgot over the years what poems were published. I'm surprised sometimes to discover a poem or group of poems in magazines published during the 1980s and early 1990s, about the time an editor at the Colorado Review wrote in a letter having returned a group of my poems: "The Colorado Review is not interested in publishing your poems, but there is a greeting card company in Denver that might be interested in them."
William Stafford also wrote, "Writing is a private act, publishing a public act."
I was never naive enough to adopt the belief that I would make a living writing. I published others, some of whom were difficult usually at my cost. Today, I write exclusively for myself. I publish little but continue on occasion to submit work to some national magazine. I long ago grew tired of submitting work to literary magazines that pay little or nothing for a poem and nearly always asked me to consider purchasing a subscription , sometimes absurdly expensive.
"About the Author" is about all of us like George Body. As you have cited: "Body could be Any(Body), even, My(Body), but then again, alas, possibly No(Body)."
What would I do if I were ever to be acknowledged by the Academy of American Poets or the Poetry Foundation? Why would I care? I'm not a victim; I've no "mind-forged manacles," nor "self-inflicted agonies." I do not crave anyone's attention. I do not keen nor wish the applause of strangers, fools and scoundrels. Nor am I interested in annoying the curators of ghastly good taste.
In the context of "About the Author," Body displays attributes and experiences shared by a majority of writers and artists. He is familiar enough to stand in for just about (any) Body. In a wider context, I've used George Body more specifically as an alter ego in my writing for the past forty years. For readers who have not heard or read the story elsewhere, I'll repeat its origin: When I was editing Asylum Magazine during the late 1980s and early 1990s, I once received a submission of several particularly bad poems, accompanied by a cover letter that began "Dear George Body." The sheer absurdity of someone not caring enough to verify the name of the editor to whom he'd submitted his work so delighted me that I borrowed the mistake and in a sense have answered to the name ever since. Through my acceptance of the name, I embraced the life of folly that seemed certain either way. "Better to laugh than cry."
Ah, yes! Body could be Any(Body), even, My(Body), but then again, alas, possibly No(Body).
Anyone of us who has pursued a life of writing poetry can relate. When I decided years ago to focus on learning the skill of writing a poem, I quit playing the guitar fearing my grades would suffer. Little did I know the workshop at San Francisco State would fall short of what I had hoped for or at least meet the criteria I experienced earlier in southern California; but by then I no longer needed the workshop.
I look back with astonishment that I managed somehow to write a book of poems that was worth reading. Poet William Stafford once wrote in a letter, "I know there are rewards to writing whether it signals so to others or not." Poet Ben Saltman wrote a poem titled "Contributor's Note," dedicated to me. It was loosely about me. I asked him about that and he said "It's about me as much as about you." I didn't appreciate mention of "the girl who was to be my wife," whomever that may have been. All of the women I knew, generally speaking, thought writing poetry was alright, as long as I understood it was a hobby and not a serious vocation.
Ben Saltman, when writing his poem, included a sentence that he lifted from a letter that I wrote when he was teaching in London as a visiting poet. I was amused he forgot about it. I said, "You shouldn't be uncomfortable about having used a sentence from my letter; I used a sentence from a letter you wrote to me." He wanted to know what sentence? I said, "I'm not telling you. You should know your own handiwork."
I had complained about editors returning nearly everything I submitted. I forgot over the years what poems were published. I'm surprised sometimes to discover a poem or group of poems in magazines published during the 1980s and early 1990s, about the time an editor at the Colorado Review wrote in a letter having returned a group of my poems: "The Colorado Review is not interested in publishing your poems, but there is a greeting card company in Denver that might be interested in them."
William Stafford also wrote, "Writing is a private act, publishing a public act."
I was never naive enough to adopt the belief that I would make a living writing. I published others, some of whom were difficult usually at my cost. Today, I write exclusively for myself. I publish little but continue on occasion to submit work to some national magazine. I long ago grew tired of submitting work to literary magazines that pay little or nothing for a poem and nearly always asked me to consider purchasing a subscription , sometimes absurdly expensive.
"About the Author" is about all of us like George Body. As you have cited: "Body could be Any(Body), even, My(Body), but then again, alas, possibly No(Body)."
What would I do if I were ever to be acknowledged by the Academy of American Poets or the Poetry Foundation? Why would I care? I'm not a victim; I've no "mind-forged manacles," nor "self-inflicted agonies." I do not crave anyone's attention. I do not keen nor wish the applause of strangers, fools and scoundrels. Nor am I interested in annoying the curators of ghastly good taste.
"The curators of ghastly good taste" indeed!
What an amazing comment. So indicative of our times. If you want a catalogue of my experiences, read this post: https://johnsonp.substack.com/p/so-you-want-to-be-a-writer
Thank you. I will certainly click on the link and take a look at your catalog. Thanks for the comment. Nick Campbell